Morning light streamed through the thin curtains, cutting across Mia's kitchen as she prepared her usual cup of tea. The hum of the kettle was the loudest sound in the apartment. Ryan sat at the table, tapping lazily at his phone, his brows furrowed at something he was reading.
"Another day, another bill," Ryan muttered, setting the device down.
Mia chuckled softly, grabbing a plate from the counter. "And yet we keep going, huh?"
Their exchange was mundane, comfortable. The television played quietly in the background, cycling through morning news segments. The reporter's voice carried on, calm and steady.
"In other news today, the annual corporate summit will—"
Ryan hit the remote, switching the screen off. "I'm done with news for the week," he said, leaning back in his chair.
Mia smirked but didn't argue. "So, what's the plan today?"
"Same as usual," Ryan replied. "Maybe we'll grab lunch later, get some air."
The kettle whistled. Mia turned to pour her tea, and Ryan stretched, standing to grab his jacket.
And then, it was over.
The apartment was gone in an instant.
There was no sound, no warning, no gradual build-up. One moment, Mia was pouring tea, the soft aroma of chamomile filling the air. The next, everything vanished.
The light in the room was replaced by a blinding flash so intense it seemed to pierce through the fabric of existence. In that single moment, time itself felt as though it shattered.
Walls, furniture, and even the ground beneath their feet were ripped away, dissolving into nothingness as though they had never been. There was no explosion to hear, only the absence of everything—a void swallowing sound, color, and sensation.
Mia didn't even have time to scream.
Outside, the city was obliterated, its towers collapsing into dust as if swept away by a cosmic hand. The sky, once a bright blue, turned a violent white before fading into a deep, endless black. Across the globe, oceans boiled, mountains crumbled, and continents fractured.
And then it was done.
---
Mia blinked.
She was no longer there. Neither was Ryan. Neither was anything.
In the darkness of what remained, only fragments lingered—dust floating in silence, embers of a world that no longer existed.
A flicker of color caught the edge of the void, faint and fleeting. If one looked closely enough, they might have seen a glimpse of something else: the silhouette of a woman's face in a dark room, her expression calm and unknowing.
Somewhere in that distant darkness, a faint sound echoed—a soft gasp, the rustle of sheets, and the quiet hum of an alarm clock beginning to chime.
---
Hint for the Next Chapter (Within the Chapter):
As the embers of Earth faded into the void, a glimmer of red light streaked across the black expanse, momentarily illuminating a small metallic object drifting in the debris. On its surface, engraved in faint letters: "Wake up."